Lovers End
by Aileen Allison DeCuir
Summary: Arthur and Alfred expect to have a nice, quite evening at one of Al's homes, but something goes awry, and they come across two men who seem strangely familiar and mean them harm. Songfic-esque two-shot, work in progress, 2P and 1P England and America.


It had all started rather normally- wonderfully mundane, even. Arthur had been over to visit Alfred, when the younger of the two suggested a trip to one of his homes in New England, rather than the usual flat in D.C. There wouldn't be neighbors for miles, and even cell phone and internet service was spotty, at best; it would be a perfect chance for them to be the happy, annoyingly cute couple they were and adored being. The drive up had been uneventful, save for a few stops for burgers and the like, and Arthur scolding Al over his choices in food. Arthur was fine once they had arrived and stepped out of Alfred's car, but the chilly autumn air was a bit uncomfortable for Al, so the pair hurried into the large, colonial-style home.

Arthur set down his bag that he brought in from the car and stretched, embarrassed as he let out a loud yawn. Alfred gave him a cheeky grin and then kissed his nose, laughing obnoxiously when Arthur's face and even his ears started to heat up. "Aw, you're such an old man, Artie! Ya' tired already?" Actually, Alfred was a bit tired, as well, but he just wanted to make fun of the Briton. He stifled a yawn himself, earning some teasing from Arthur.

After a few minutes of friendly bickering, Alfred's stomach growled and he demanded a snack to quiet it down. "But, don't worry, babe- I wasn't gonna ask ya' to go an' make me a sandwich or anything." Arthur flicked the younger man's nose. "Damned right you weren't, and I wouldn't have made one for you, anyway." With that, Arthur went to take their things upstairs, calling for Al to bring him some tea and to hurry up to their room.

Alfred (being the hero and all) quickly threw together a sandwich, grabbed a soda, and fixed some tea just the way the grouchy-but-kind-of-cute Briton liked before nearly running upstairs to the room. He set everything down, and once they were ready for bed and snug under the blankets, Al turned the television on to a horror flick. Arthur groaned. It would be a long night, since Alfred was a total scaredy-cat. The only upside was that it gave Arthur an excuse to cuddle the idiot.

After the film was over, and after calming Al down a bit- which was a feat in itself -the two settled down, with Alfred comfortably wrapped in Arthur's arms. They were nearly asleep when Arthur shot up and looked around, eyes wide. "Al, you heard that too, didn't you?" His voice was low and a bit shaky. He had definitely heard something. Arthur had never really been scared after reading or watching horror stories, so it probably wasn't his imagination. Alfred nearly jumped at the sound of heavy footsteps coming from downstairs.

"Artie, w-want me to check things out?" Alfred showed no signs of wanting to get up, especially with the way he pressed closer to his boyfriend. "I could totally do it, ha ha- I'm the hero, after all!" Arthur shook his head 'no,' and kissed Alfred's cheek, barely pressing to it. "I'll do it, don't worry. It's probably some bloody kids that thought this place was abandoned or something. You ought to do a bit more maintenance, prat." A loud crash, and then another, and then a few more came from under them. "I'll teach those idiots a lesson, maybe frighten them a bit- threaten to call the cops or something. I'll be back in just a moment, love." Arthur got up, smiling as Al slid over to his side of the bed and then grabbed something out of the nightstand before heading out of the room.

"Murderers, that's what they have to be. Serial killers or worse. Oh my god, what if they're ghosts? Artie only insisted on them being kids so that I wouldn't freak!" Al had totally kept his cool earlier, but Arthur had just left, and now Alfred was panicking and chewing on his lip while his thoughts raced. There had to be someone else in the house, and by all the noise that the pair had heard, they meant to cause as much harm as possible. "Artie, come back safe. Come back safe. Come back safe. Hurry up, damn it! Jeez, you're a stupid old man. I can't believe you just left me like that," Al half-whispered, half-whined. He stayed sitting on Arthur's side of their bed, hugging tightly to his knees and under the blankets. Hero or not, Alfred was scared- not for himself, of course! No, he was just worried for Arthur. The Briton might throw out his back or get too cocky and try to act like the empire he used to be...about a million years ago. That would definitely turn out badly.

For once, Arthur was thankful for Alfred's obsession with guns. There was always at least one in every house, and he had managed to snatch it up from the nightstand before going downstairs. He cocked the pistol, holding it at the ready while he quietly started through the house. He really did think that the intruders were most likely some kids, but it didn't hurt to be prepared- not that he was really too worried, though! Arthur listened for every last sound, finally picking up those heavy footsteps from before, and, was that another, lighter set?

And, finally Arthur found them, keeping his breathing hushed as he watched the two from behind a wall. The first was a man about his height and build, and the second was just a little bit taller- hardly enough to really matter. After getting a better look, Arthur became confused. The pair looked similar to him and Alfred, and then they even referred to themselves as England and America, except that they had this different air about them. It just felt wrong to Arthur. "America" had dark red hair, like the color of dried blood, and "England" had very pale, blond hair mixed in with the lightest shade of pink. They were discussing plans for something- from what Arthur heard, it was probably how to dispose of him and Alfred. There was no way Arthur would go down without a fight, though. Hopefully, Alfred's cell service would come back, since it had been spotty all night, and then he'd call for help.

Arthur slipped away, figuring that those two men would eventually go looking for them. He wanted to make sure that Alfred got out safely; the poor thing was probably scared half to death by now. The Briton would get Al out of the house, they'd take the car and drive off to the nearest police station, and everything would be fine.

He barely had a chance to put his hand on the door knob before he felt a sharp blow to his head, and then everything went black.

The other England pouted at his America, twirling a few strands of pale blond-pink hair in his long and delicate fingers. "Oh, it's really not fair at all, darling. Not fair! I wanted to play with this one. He is mine, after all, right? I would just love to cut him up. You can play with the fat one!"

Arthur woke with a start at the unfamiliar voices, only to find himself tied up and propped against a wall. He looked around him while the two men argued amongst themselves, to find an unconscious Alfred, tied up and also against the wall. His mind was a bit foggy, and he still didn't quite understand why there was another England and America , what they were doing here, or how he had gotten caught. Oh, that's right, he had gone off to get Alfred. Arthur sighed at the thought. It was his fault that Al had ended up in the same situation.

Arthur let out a groan, his head throbbing in pain- and that's when the other America and England noticed he was awake. America swung a baseball bat with nails sticking out the sides over his shoulder, and walked up towards Arthur. The man grinned at him, bright red eyes looking over Arthur a little curiously. He squatted down in front of Arthur and flicked his nose. "Ya' look a lot like Iggy over there, ya' know?" He tilted Arthur's chin up, and motioned over at Arthur's double. "I don't really mind that, since ya' look like a pretty nice piece of ass." His grin turned into a smirk. "But, he's damned scary when he's jealous. Not to say that I didn't wanna fuck you up as soon as I saw ya', but I'm not as annoyed by you as by lard-ass, over that way." He made a slight gesture towards his unconscious double. "Bastard has the same face as me, but he's a complete pussy! I found 'im under a fuckload of blankets- fucker thought it was you, goin' to save him or some bull like that."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, it's not exactly a songfic, but I did get a bit of inspiration from "Lovers End" (no, really?) by The Birthday Massacre. This one has just been sitting in a folder for the last few months, waiting for me to finish/upload it. Meeh. It's almost done, so the second part should be up by the end of this month, or by early May. Same as for everything- author is an attention whore, and reviews are love (even if it's just to tell me that you abhor 2P Hetalia, and I should be disemboweled for writing whatever pops into my head).


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